Shelter from the Storm
by Jessica237
Summary: She'd been his safe place then, his shelter from the storm. Four months later, none of that has changed. KD, post 5x02.


**Title: **Shelter from the Storm**  
By:** Jessica**  
Pairing: **Kensi/Deeks**  
Rating:** K+**  
Timeline:** Post 5x02: Impact  
**Summary: **She'd been his safe place then, his shelter from the storm. Four months later, it hasn't changed.

* * *

With a smile, he'd offered her his cat pillow.

But Kensi Blye awakens with something different beneath her head, something warmer, something more solid…and yet, something far more comfortable than any pillow could have ever been.

Not much sunlight breaks through the thick curtains; Kensi knows it's sometime around seven or eight, but the relative darkness makes it seem so much earlier. She blinks her eyes repeatedly to adjust her vision, trying to wake herself lest she fall back into the depths of sleep again. It takes her a moment to realize exactly where she is, but once she does, rather than the jolt of alarm she might have felt a year or two ago, she feels nothing but calm. A gentle sigh slips from her lips as she settles against her makeshift pillow – it turns out to be the shoulder of her partner (God, she prays he's still her partner after all that's happened – he's the only one she wants, after all).

She's not sure for how long she lays there with him, simply breathing him in, contemplating dozing off again. What she does know for certain, though, is that she's drawing lazy patterns on his chest when he catches her, his fingers closing gently around her wrist. Kensi closes her eyes, expecting a "_Morning, Princess," _or a "_Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," _but the question that reaches her ears leaves her wondering just how long he's been awake with her. "You're on today, yeah? Shouldn't you be going?"

He's lucid, though his voice is still colored by sleep – it's a low, rumbling sound that goes straight to the pit of Kensi's belly, filling her with feelings of desire and longing that she's been fighting back for the better part of the last few years. "Probably," she whispers.

She makes no effort to move, though, and when his voice fills her ears again, there's a hint of amusement there, a shadow of the Marty Deeks she used to know, a tiny sliver of hope that for him, perhaps not all is entirely lost. "That means you should probably get up…"

"Yeah…"

He's got a point. _She's_ not on leave, after all, and before she ever wanders into OSP for the day, she'll need to brave the early morning traffic back to her place for a shower and a change of clothing before heading in to work. She's looking at a couple hours at the very least and at this point, she's already running late.

But rather than stretch her tired muscles and pull herself from the couch, Kensi finds herself letting her eyes close again, gently snuggling deeper into his warmth. It's a perfect fit, her head tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, his head resting gently atop hers. As if that wasn't enough, the warmth of his arm around her sure doesn't inspire her to move; nor does the strong beat of his heart beneath her palm, resting softly over his chest.

She thinks she could stay here in this moment forever.

(She's not jolted by a burst of fear this time as that particular thought crosses her mind.)

Deeks chuckles softly as she succumbs to a yawn, lightly nuzzling against him in the process. "Sleep well?" he murmurs.

Kensi hums quietly. "I feel like I should be asking _you_ that question…"

"Mm…" Other than that, it's a long moment before Deeks answers, and briefly, Kensi can't help but wonder if maybe he'd drifted off again. But just as she's about to lift her head from his shoulder, he answers, the gentle curve on his lips evident in his voice. "I actually _slept_…I mean, for the first time in _weeks…_"

"That's good," Kensi muses softly, unable to suppress a shiver at the slight implication in his confession. He doesn't have to _say_ that she's the reason he'd finally found rest after God only knows how many sleepless nights. He doesn't have to _say_ that her being there was what he'd needed to relax him, to calm the storm within. He doesn't have to say any of it.

Technically, he'd already said it all, months ago, in one honest, heartfelt confession.

And Kensi's been struggling with a response to that for four months. What could she possibly say to her partner, the one who'd admitted that she'd been his shelter from the storm, when all along she'd blamed _herself_ for leaving him in that storm to begin with?

She supposes that's part of why she's so reluctant to leave him now. "You know, I don't…_have_ to go," she breathes. There's no denying the slight tug deep in her chest as the words leave her lips – she thinks it should scare her, truly. And it _had_ scared her at first – even now, she can feel the way her heart had accelerated, jolted by a tiny electrical shock at the sleepy words that had left her partner's lips just the night before.

_"It's a love story,"_ he'd murmured, already claimed for the night by sleep. He may not have even realized what he was saying; he may not even remember mumbling anything at all. But Kensi…she'd immediately returned to a long-locked away memory deep in the vault of her mind, to a morning when a young woman named Melissa had awoken to the press of her husband's lips to her temple, his strong arms wrapped snugly around her. Except…the feelings deep in her chest hadn't belonged to Melissa, and the sleepy whispers that had tumbled from her partner's lips hadn't belonged to Justin.

Over a year ago, Kensi had realized that the feelings she had for Deeks _weren't_ just driven by a fiery, superficial lust.

And last night, as she'd watched the tension and the pain fade from his face; as she watched peace come over him, smoothing out the months of worry and anxiety set deep into his features, she'd realized something else.

As she'd watched him fall asleep next to her, Kensi had realized that if she were to lose him, she too would be lost.

She'd thought that realization would scare her.

It doesn't.

"I don't really want you to go," he whispers, so quietly that for a moment, Kensi questions whether or not the words are real. Maybe she'd merely imagined it; maybe it's a trick conjured up by her imagination, clouded by feelings and emotions that she can't even begin to make sense of right now.

But then, she hears them again – stronger this time, and the deep shiver that courses through her body tells her beyond any shadow of doubt that they're as real now as they'd been the first time.

They're as real as the words he'd told her nearly four months ago, as he'd stood across the bullpen from her looking utterly lost, confused. _Broken_. She can still feel the sting in her eyes, the lump in her throat. She'd wanted nothing more than to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and be the rock that he'd so desperately needed that night.

But instead, she'd let Sam and Callen deter her.

(She's never forgiven herself for that.)

They'd separated after a few hours at the bar as a team, and it had seemed that the door had closed. She'd tried to reach out to him – phone calls, visits, emails, texts, even a silly card through the mail. But he'd responded to none of it – not even offering a request to leave him alone.

She thinks she could have accepted that.

What she hadn't been able to accept was him closing down on her.

What she hadn't been able to accept…was _losing_ him.

Deeks sighs heavily, turning his head ever so slightly, just enough to breathe in the scent of her shampoo. "I'm sorry that…that I never answered the phone," he whispers, almost as if reading her mind. "I'm just…I'm sorry…"

The utter contrition in his voice nearly shatters her heart. Closing her eyes against the sudden, slight sting of tears, Kensi swallows hard, searching for her voice. "It's – it's okay," she replies softly, not quite able to hide the quaver behind her words.

"It's not. It's –"

He stops abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles. Last night had been…just perfect, truly. It'd been an escape from everything – from the pain, from the memories, from the past that he thinks he'll never, ever outrun. At first, he'd contemplated not answering the door, but in the end, he'd needed this. He'd needed a night of bad tv; he'd needed horrendous yet delicious takeout that would probably end up taking fifteen years off of his life. He'd needed a distraction; he'd needed to _forget_.

And more than that, he'd needed _her_.

He'd needed the touch, the warmth of her skin as their hands gently brushed over their pastry baby; he'd needed the smile that crept across his lips when he realized that not only had Kensi _not_ eaten it, but she was advising _him_ not to eat it (Kensi, of _all_ people). He'd needed the teasing banter, heavily infused with the flirtation that has always defined their partnership, their _thing_. He'd needed the sound of her voice to calm his troubled mind enough to find peace, even if only for the night.

He'd needed her smile, her laugh.

_Everything_.

The warmth of her touch breaks his quiet reverie, and Deeks slowly blinks his blue eyes open in time to watch her fingers fill the spaces between his, gently clasping their hands together.

It seems to give him the strength to continue, but by now, that's no surprise. She'd gotten him through the worst seven hours of his life, after all and while he's not really willing to test the theory, Deeks is pretty certain that she could get him through a thousand more. "It's not okay," he repeats.

His voice scratches at the back of his throat, and he pauses, swallowing hard as he fights back the emotion, the exhaustion that still lingers even after a full night of sleep, undisturbed by nightmares. "Nothing's okay…"

Kensi gives his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze; it's a small gesture, really, but God, what the reassurance that she's _there_ does for him now. "Nothing's been okay for months and I just – I don't know how to get anything back. I don't know how to get – how to get _myself_ back. I just – just wish I could go back and change it all." He chuckles dryly; there's no real amusement in it. "Turn the clock back and just…not get out of bed that day."

She squeezes his hand again – God, how she wishes she could offer more than that. Were she a little more courageous, she thinks she might twist her neck just a bit, just enough to press her lips softly against his throat. She doesn't, though – she'd wanted to press a kiss to his forehead the night before as he'd slept, but she hadn't. She'd held back, not wanting to move, afraid to break the serenity of the moment; now, she's not entirely sure why she holds back. "Everything that happened that day wasn't bad," she breathes.

Maybe she means Deeks diving into that pool to save Sam's life.

Maybe she means something entirely different, something that had sparked a simmering flame somewhere deep inside of her.

Then again, maybe means nothing - Kensi can't lie to herself. She knows _exactly_ what she means. "There's something that…that I _wouldn't_ change."

For a long while, Deeks is silent. As the moments tick past, Kensi swallows hard, feeling the heat of shame slowly wash over her. Perhaps…perhaps it was still too soon for that. Or maybe, in light of all that had happened, he'd begun to second guess his own actions. Maybe he can't think of kissing her without remembering what else had happened to him; maybe it's a memory that will forever be tainted. Her heart clenches painfully at the very thought.

But then, he tilts his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to the top of her head. It's not a resolution, but at least it's not a closing of the door. Kensi lets out a shaky breath; she hadn't realized she'd been holding it. "I bet you're starving," Deeks murmurs finally, the words weaving gently through the dark, tousled strands atop her head. "If you want to, you know, go get some breakfast…I don't really have much here, I mean. Haven't really done much grocery shopping…"

Gently, Kensi shakes her head. "No, I'm good," she says quietly, conquered slowly by the heaviness in her eyelids. He might have slept, but she can't deny just how much of the night she'd lain awake, just watching him.

Watching him.

Touching him – trailing a fingertip along the length of his arm; gently stroking the rough stubble at his cheek, occasionally twirling a lock of messy blonde around a finger.

Guarding him, ready to step in should his peaceful slumber dissolve into the terror of nightmares.

Needing him – selfishly, craving the reassurance that he's still here, that he's still _hers,_ be it by the warmth of life within his skin, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the quiet sound of his occasional snores.

She'd come here last night for him.

But she can't deny that there's a part of her that needs this just as desperately as he does.

And he can tease her all he wants, but not even the promise of pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs could make her move from where she is right now. "I'm good," she repeats, unabashedly breathing in his scent – _God,_ how close she'd come to never doing that again. "Besides, if I get _that_ hungry, well, we've still got that cronut," she adds playfully.

Deeks smiles – he's smiled more in the past ten hours than he has in the past ten weeks. "Never thought I'd see the day. Kensi Blye…sacrificing a _real_ breakfast for a broken partner and a stale cronut."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," she says quietly, unable to stop the slight smile that tugs at her lips. Shifting against him, she fishes her phone out of her pocket, then taps out a quick text to Callen – he'd understand it, she knows. He'd understand…and wouldn't question it. Then, she powers down her phone and drops it unceremoniously on the table where it's quickly forgotten.

"Well, I love surprises," Deeks murmurs as Kensi settles against him again. He hesitates for a moment, pondering. "I love _good_ surprises. Not like, you know, surprise dentistry." He shudders at his own joke and swears Kensi does too – maybe it will _always_ be too soon for that. "But good surprises, like…surprise takeout in the middle of the night, or a surprise cronut…or finding out that my Badass Blye has this secret, soft, kind of sensitive side that likes to cuddle…"

She elbows him playfully, but Deeks doesn't even complain because not even a second later, she's nuzzling against him, and he'd swear he feels the fleeting, feathery press of her lips against his throat. "I _love_ those surprises…"

And as Kensi slowly fades into sleep, her body curled comfortably into his, she's struck by one brief, wispy realization caught somewhere within the ever-blurring boundary between lucid thought and dreams: _I've always had a soft spot for love stories..._


End file.
